He's All That
by Darkest Desire
Summary: Captain of the football team Oliver Wood has ten weeks to turn social outcast Harry Potter into the ideal boyfriend because of a bet he made with his friends. Loosely based off of the movie "She's All That." AU with HarryOliver SLASH.
1. The Boot and a Bet

Summary: Oliver Wood is the Captain of the Gryffindor football team and most popular guy in school. So why was he just dumped by his long time boyfriend Blaise Zabini? To prove to his friends that he's not losing his touch, Oliver bets that he can turn socially challenged Harry Potter into the ideal boyfriend in ten weeks tops. Loosely based off of the movie "She's All That." AU with Harry/Oliver SLASH.

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CHAPTER ONE: THE BOOT AND A BET

"Hey, has anybody seen Blaise?" was the first thing that Oliver said upon seeing his best friends for the first time in a week. Had he actually been paying attention to said best friends, Fred and George Weasley, rather than gazing frantically through the crowd of students milling about on their way to class in search of his boyfriend, he would have seen them roll their eyes at each other in exasperation at his less-than-enthusiastic-to-see-them greeting.

"I don't think he's here yet," Fred replied nonchalantly, not really caring one way or the other about it. Blaise was an all right guy and a fellow team mate on the football field, but the guy could be kind of conceited, arrogant, snobbish...well, you get the picture.

George gave a shrug in response to the question, although Oliver was looking out over the sea of students in search of his beloved Blaise and, therefore, couldn't see the gesture. "I'm sure you would have seen him by now if he was already here," George agreed with his twin, though Oliver paid him no heed as he quickly began to make his way through the throng of students and towards the Senior parking lot.

Glancing back to see what it was that had caught Oliver's eye, George watched as Blaise proceeded to park his brand new, shiny, red, Mustang convertible in the closest spot that he could find to the school, his music blaring loudly out of his top of the line stereo system up to the point where he turned off the ignition. He had a pair of designer sunglasses on, matching his, no doubt, expensive designer clothes. He was one of those guys who thought that he was all that, just because his dad happened to be some big shot senator and he had more money than he knew what to do with. It made George sick, and he wasn't the only one.

His whole family hated the kid. Okay, so maybe his parents didn't hate _him_, per se, but their father, Arthur Weasley, had worked under 'Big shot Zabini's' father for quite some time now and didn't like the family in general. His brothers all hated the pompous, popular boy with a vengeance, as did quite a few other people at the school. And yet Oliver was dating him. George honestly didn't see what he saw in Blaise; Oliver could do so much better than _him_, as he had told him on many occasions.

He had all but given up by now, though. Oliver only got mad at him and his twin when they futilely tried to point out what they thought was rather obvious: Oliver was too good for Blaise. Oliver hadn't spoken to them for a week after that; he could really be a rather stubborn git when he chose to. So they had decided to let it be; no one could say they hadn't at least _tried_.

The first bell rang loudly just then, startling George out of his thoughts. He glanced towards his twin, before sending a look Oliver's way, silently asking his brother whether or not they should wait for Oliver or go on to class without him. His brother shrugged his shoulders in response. They didn't really find it necessary to talk to each other in order to communicate; it was what everyone so lovingly referred to as their 'freaky twin thing.'

Deciding that Oliver was busy at the moment and libel to bite his head off should he interfere with the reunion, George started off towards his first class, which he, Fred, and Oliver all shared. Thankfully, Blaise wasn't in that class. But that probably only meant that Oliver would be talking non-stop about how wonderful Blaise is, alternating with his zoning out into his dazed, daydreaming-about-my-wonderful-boyfriend mode. Or, at least, that's what he'd done last year ever since he and Blaise had started going out. Oh, well. At least Oliver seemed truly happy.

That was more than George would be able to say about himself in a couple minutes time. They had math next--precalc to be precise--and he wasn't looking forward to it at all. But, seeing as how he _did _want to go to college (What good would a football scholarship be otherwise?) he didn't really have any choice but to take the class.

Fred and George soon arrived to classroom number 420, Mrs. McGonagall's room. The twins were there a minute before the second bell that signaled the beginning of class, but the teacher still eyed them sternly, almost as if they had been late, which thankfully they weren't. Oliver wasn't so lucky, though.

He came stumbling into the classroom, only about 30 seconds late, but late none the less. McGonagall glared at him, though she seemed to soften a bit as she took in his appearance. He looked completely shocked--in a bad way--almost like he had just been informed that a relative had died. George wondered what had happened; when he had left Oliver he certainly hadn't expected him to walk into the classroom looking like _this_.

Oliver quickly made his way to the back of the classroom, sitting in the formerly empty desk to George's left. McGonagall shook her head, making it quite clear that she disapproved of tardiness before proceeding to take attendance. George took the opportunity to question Oliver as to what had happened. He spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, though he was certain that Oliver could hear him, as he remained looking forward at the teacher as she called role, moving his lips as little as possible so that the teacher wouldn't notice that he was talking, feeling all the while like a ventriloquist.

Peeking out of the corner of his eye, George saw Oliver shake his head as if in denial of something and trying to convince himself that whatever it was wasn't true. George discreetly kicked his friend's foot in order to jolt him into responding. "He dumped me," George heard Oliver answer, though it sounded more as if he was talking aloud to himself; George was barely even able to hear him and could hardly believe that he'd heard correctly.

_Could Blaise have really dumped him? _George pondered silently, refraining from asking Oliver if it was true as McGonagall informed Oliver that he was being marked tardy and that she was very strict when it came to promptness. Oliver merely nodded in understanding. The teacher seemed satisfied with that as she set the roster aside and began to hand out the class syllabus.

George lent only half an ear to the teacher as she droned on about her expectations and the course goals, too concerned for his friend to really care that he was probably going to get into trouble in the very first class of his senior year.

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Operation 'Cheer Oliver Up By Finding Him a New Boyfriend' was a go. Fred sureptuously nodded to his twin to let him know this fact. They glanced around the hallway at various students they passed, hoping to find someone suitable for their plan. Unfortunately, they happened upon Draco Malfoy instead.

"Hello, boys," the stuck-up blonde greeted with feigned kindness as he walked up with his two lackeys Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind and looking lost. "Enjoying the new school year?" Malfoy continued, directing his question at Oliver, who was obviously _not _enjoying himself. "Aww...poor Oliver, I heard about your little break up with Blaise," Malfoy continued, seeming to revel in the pain he was causing Oliver. "I hear he dumped you so that he could go out with that line backer, what's his name? Victor Krum I believe?" Malfoy smirked in amusement as Oliver looked horribly shocked at his words. "It seems you're really losing your touch, Oliver," Malfoy announced, seeming smug. He had always resented Oliver and his popularity.

"He's not losing his touch!" Fred vehemently defended his friend. George nodded in agreement.

"Hmm...would you be willing to bet on that?" Malfoy suggested, not at all fazed. He raised a blonde eyebrow in question, as if asking Oliver whether he accepted the challenge.

Oliver seemed reluctant to agree, but seeing as how he would never back down from Malfoy... "What are you on about, Malfoy?" Curiosity killed the cat; Oliver could only hope he wasn't signing a death warrant.

"So glad you asked," Malfoy practically purred. "Here are the terms: You take the boy of my choice and turn him into the most desirable boy in school by the time voting comes around in ten weeks or else you have to do whatever I ask of you."

"And if I win?" Oliver asked, not quite sure if he liked the sound of this bet.

"Then I do whatever you want," Malfoy stated calmly, holding out a hand for them to shake upon the deal.

Oliver glanced down at the hand for a moment before hesitantly extending his own hand to shake that of Malfoy's. He knew he would regret it later, but...well, too late now.

"Alright, now for the decision time," Malfoy said with a wicked smile lighting his face. He seemed to be having fun with this, too much fun. "And the lucky boy will be..." he trailed off, looking around and searching the crowds for the worst possible candidate for Oliver to have.

His eyes fell upon a scruffy haired boy with big, dorky, thick rimmed glasses and clothes that practically made him cringe in disgust. He had a scar across his forehead and didn't seem to have any friends, or at least none were with him at the moment. As Malfoy watched, the boy tripped over his too long, baggy pants and fell flat onto the concrete floor, scattering books and papers everywhere. The people around him laughed. Perfect.

"See that boy over there at the top of the stairs, scrounging around to pick up all of the stuff he dropped?" Malfoy asked slyly, anticipating the look that would come across the Weasels's faces and that of Wood's when they became aware of who he was pointing at...And there it was, that look of abject horror when they spotted the 'bet boy.' Malfoy couldn't help but smirk.

"Yeah, I see him...isn't that that Harry Potter kid in our physics class?" Oliver announced with apprehension, dreading what he was certain was to come next.

"Well, Wood, it looks like you have your work cut out for you, because that's the boy you're going to have to make irresistible in less than three months," Malfoy announced smugly. He had practically won the bet already. There was no way that even Wood would be able to get _that _to become popular by the end of ten weeks. "I really must be getting my lunch now, bye," Malfoy concluded, walking away with a smirk as both Weasleys glared daggers at his retreating, Banana Republic clad, back.

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Author's Note: It's kind of weird, I know. I was watching "She's All That" the other day and the idea just popped into my head. I'm sure it will veer off from the movie quite a bit later, but...yeah. Anyway, I hope you liked it so far!


	2. A Meal and Misfortunes

Summary: Oliver Wood is the Captain of the Gryffindor football team and most popular guy in school. So why was he just dumped by his long time boyfriend Blaise Zabini? To prove to his friends that he's not losing his touch, Oliver bets that he can turn socially challenged Harry Potter into the ideal boyfriend in ten weeks tops. Loosely based off of the movie "She's All That." AU with Harry/Oliver SLASH.

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CHAPTER TWO: A MEAL AND MISFORTUNES

"Stupid jocks," Harry mumbled discontentedly under his breath as he tried to ignore the laughs he was receiving for his all too typical display of clumsiness. He knew part of it was from his innate ability to trip over his own two feet, though he bet a lot of it had to do with his humongous pants--hand-me-downs from his whale of a cousin--and the fact that he hadn't had his eyesight checked since the fourth grade.

Hastily trying to gather his things as he knelt at the top of the stairs, desperately hoping that he would be able to pick his stuff up and put it away before someone decided to come along and make his life even more of a living hell than it already was, Harry silently cursed his luck. He didn't really care about being popular or anything--in fact, he would rather not be since all of the 'cool' people seemed to be complete assholes--but he did wish that he could at least get through the day without being picked on or ridiculed or made a complete mockery of.

After all, he couldn't help it that his clothes weren't of the latest fashion and his hair was completely unmanageable. It's not like he had any money, or rather it wasn't like his relatives would actually spend any more on him than absolutely necessary. It sucked and it wasn't fair, but that's just the way life was. Or at the very least _his_ life. And there was nothing that he could do about it.

Letting out a sigh, he absently reached out to grab his lit circle book, stopping short as his hand brushed against someone else's. Hesitantly raising his eyes, and hoping that it was only Hermione, his face paled with shock as he met the gaze of Oliver Wood, star football player and consequently one of the most popular boys in the school. Could his day get any worse?

He gave the larger boy a half-hearted glare, not really in the mood to be bullied and uncertain as to why Wood seemed to have decided to pick up the hobby all of a sudden. He noticed that the jock held his book clutched in his hand and silently groaned, warily eyeing Wood with trepidation. He really couldn't afford to replace the book, and the Dursley's would _kill_ him if they got a fine for it.

He wanted to just reach out and snatch it back, then make a mad dash for the cafeteria and hope for the best, though he knew that probably wasn't the best, or safest, course of action. Resigned to whatever fate Wood had in store for him, he bowed his head. "What do you want?" he asked glumly, trying not to let despair show through in his voice, though he doubted he was doing a very good job at hiding it.

"I just thought you might want some help with your stuff," was Wood's reply, the apparent sincerity shocking Harry. He raised his eyes, scrutinizing Wood to try and discern whether this was some clever ploy to put him at ease only to dash his hopes and provide Wood and his friends with amusement at his utter humiliation. Looking around, though, Harry didn't see any of Wood's friends around. So much for that idea.

Still unwilling to trust Wood--who _was_, after all, a jock--Harry didn't allow himself to be pulled in by Wood's seeming kindness. "I am perfectly capable of picking up my own things," he remarked somewhat acidly, knowing that he was probably only digging himself into a deeper hole. "Besides, why would _you _care anyway?" he added, unable to keep himself from voicing his suspicions.

Oliver was somewhat taken aback, stammering for a few moments before coming up with an answer. "Look, I know I've never been particularly nice to you before, but I have never actually been _mean_ to you, have I? It just looked like you could use some help, so I decided to lend a hand. The least you could do is give me a chance before you bite my head off," Oliver reasoned, starting to believe that this bet would be even harder to win than he had initially thought.

Despite his prevailing misgivings, Harry let out a sigh, conceding the fact that the least he could do was to give the guy a chance. Perhaps Wood really _was_ just trying to be nice for once, although if that was the case, then it was probably just his good deed for the year after which things would go back to normal. But, whatever, he would take what he could get. "Uh…thanks," Harry responded more amicably, accepting the rest of his stuff from Oliver with slight discomfort.

Oliver smiled slightly in return, which helped ease Harry's mind a bit. "Look, I'm sure you think all jocks are the same. I mean, you probably think we're all thick headed assholes, right? But, the truth is that we're not all like that. In fact, you'd find that some of us aren't half bad once you get to know us," Oliver spoke, knowing that if he was going to win this boy over he would first have to address some of the major issues that lay between them.

Harry wondered what exactly Wood was trying to get at. He could see that he was trying to sway Harry's current presumed opinion of him, but the question was: Why? Why would Wood care what Harry thought of him? It was a foreign thought for Harry; no one, except for maybe Hermione, had ever cared about his opinion, or about _him_ for that matter.

"Do you _want_ me to get to know you?" Harry couldn't help but question, latching onto the last part of what Wood had said. Turning to face the substantially taller jock, Harry scrutinized him, trying to decipher what his motives were for this unexpected turn about. He had to wonder what on earth could have brought this on.

Oliver was surprised by the directness of the inquiry. He wasn't exactly sure how Potter wanted or expected him to respond, but he supposed that answering in the affirmative wouldn't lessen his chances any more. "Yeah, actually, I think I do," he replied to Potter's question, trying to seem as sincere as possible and not over eager. After all, the response _was_ true, although it wasn't for the reason that one would assume.

Harry was still somewhat skeptical, but figured that he might as well give Wood a shot. Anyway, what did have to lose? "Umm…I was just going to go get lunch…Did you want to, you know, er…join me?" Harry suggested hesitantly, stumbling over the unfamiliar words.

Oliver was a tad shocked by the suggestion, Potter not striking him as one to extend lunch invitations on a regular basis. He took this as a good sign. "Sure," he accepted, though he knew that there would be repercussions on his social status. Winning this bet was more important anyway. Besides, even if people looked down on him for it, it would blow over by the end of the week at the very least.

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Maybe lunch with Potter hadn't been such a good idea after all Oliver decided as he headed off toward his fourth hour class. The task had seemed simple enough, and it probably would have been, that is if it was just him and Potter. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

He had, of course, expected some sort of reaction from the other students. The reaction he'd gotten, though, was more than even _he_ could have predicted.

It had been bad enough with just the whispers and stares following them, but then Malfoy's goons had had to show up and start a scene. Oliver had been forced to eventually stand up to the imbeciles in Potter's defense. He could only imagine what kind of rumors were going around now. Whatever they were, he'd surely hear them before the day was up.

And, as if _that_ wasn't bad enough, that pig-faced wrestler--Dorsey or something like that--had shown up and started making a fuss, shouting out stuff about Potter being a freak and how Oliver shouldn't associate with him. It was only after the great blimp had left that he'd found out that the jerk was actually Potter's cousin.

He had to wonder what it was about this kid that made everyone seem to despise him so much. Unless there was something he hadn't seen or heard about the kid that made him some psychopath-in-the-making, then Oliver really couldn't see what was so 'wrong' with him.

Sure, Harry was a tad anti-social and lacking in confidence, but from what Oliver had seen so far (which admittedly wasn't a lot), the guy seemed a whole heck of a lot nicer than some of the assholes they had at this school, although that wasn't saying much. Besides, what was the big deal? Why did everyone care so much? Frankly, it didn't really make all that much sense to him, but then again, a lot of things that people did seemed unreasonable.

Shaking his head, Oliver let out a sigh as he made it to his fourth hour class with three minutes to spare. He really didn't want to be late again after having been late to McGonagall's class this morning. Although, he'd had a pretty good reason then, not that he particularly wanted to think about _that_ at the moment.

Looking around, he spotted a seat near the far back corner and headed for it, not really in the mood to be sociable. Not having much else to do, he decided to take out a notebook and pen in preparation for class, though he doubted they'd being doing much considering it was the first day.

Leaning over and rooting around in his already disorganized bag, Oliver was assaulted by what distinctly sounded like the voice of Draco Malfoy. Peeking up without lifting his head, he ascertained that what he had feared was indeed true. Shit. That's when he noticed the person standing beside Malfoy, causing him to jolt and bang his head. Double shit.

Not only was Malfoy in his same class (which was bad enough in and of itself), but his now ex-boyfriend Blaise also appeared to have this class with him. As if he didn't already hate Spanish enough as it was.

Grimacing at the impending nightmare, Oliver could only hope that the two wouldn't spot him until the class had already started and that he would be able to sneak out as soon as the bell rang without a confrontation. Unfortunately, such fantasies were short-lived.

"Wood, what a pleasant surprise," Malfoy spoke condescendingly, smirking down at Oliver, who was still half hiding behind the desk.

Straightening up, Oliver faced his doom, trying to plaster a fake smile on his face and pretend that nothing was wrong. "I wish I could say the same," he spoke in response to Malfoy's words, still smiling falsely with thinly veiled disgust. "A surprise, yes. Pleasant? Unfortunately not."

Malfoy snorted derisively and rolled his eyes. "What is unfortunate is your transparent attempt to be witty and collected. We all know you cried like a lovesick schoolgirl when Blaise broke up with you this morning," Malfoy retorted, seeming to revel in Oliver's obvious hatred for him.

Despite himself, Oliver could not think up a decent comeback to that. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer by Professor Flitwick entering the room, with the bell ringing just seconds afterward signaling the beginning of class.

Oliver was relieved, yet at the same time he felt as if Malfoy had gotten the upper hand in this round. At least Blaise had had the decency not to butt in. Oliver wasn't sure whether he would be able to handle that so soon after their breakup. But, whatever, he now had something else to keep his mind on, thanks to Malfoy. And he would _need_ to keep his mind on it if he intended to actually win the bet. Hell, he could already tell it was going to be a _long_ year, and it was only the middle of the first day.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: So, so sorry that it has taken me _forever_ to update this fic. I really have no excuse whatsoever beyond the typical writer's block and losing sight of the story, etc. Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far. I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of positive encouragement that I got after the first chapter. I'll try to update again as soon as I can, though it will still probably be at least three or four weeks before I get around to it. I apologize in advanced. And, once again, thank you so much for the support; I really appreciated it! 


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